


Dean St, Fri, 10pm

by amberbamba



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, i don't even know where this came from
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amberbamba/pseuds/amberbamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a ficlet where Nick has a little crush on Liam, because I refuse to believe there exists a person who doesn't.  Also, Harry's jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean St, Fri, 10pm

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing has been written in the last two hours to distract me from editing the 45k fic of doooom! I'm going back to it now, I promise.
> 
> Unbetad, unedited, barely written.

Nick has a crush on Liam.

He can deny it all he wants, but Harry’s been friends with Nick long enough to know when he’s got a hard on for someone; and he looks at Liam like if he wasn’t famous or Harry’s best mate, he’d have him up against the filthy toilet door of the club after five tequilas and that speech he gives nubile straight boys about finding their prostate.

For that reason, Harry keeps them as separate as he possibly can at all times. 

He has since the beginning, when Nick started to joke around with him about the pretty model looking one and his cut body and all the things he’d do to him if Harry would only bring Liam out with them one night. 

Harry decided then and there to keep him away from Nick _forever_. 

He's just protecting Liam’s virtue, like the awesome friend he is. And if in the process he stops himself feeling like he's going to flip out and punch Nick in the face, then that's just incidental. No, Harry is just being an amazing friend.

He even takes the brunt of Liam’s puppy eyes when he tells the others he's going out with Nick for the night and Liam makes it clear he has no plans. When he invites Louis and Niall to come along, purposely pretending he can’t see Liam looking sad and left out. Like he isn’t good enough. Like Harry thinks he's too uncool to be seen in the middle of Soho with him and his fabulous hipster friends.

It's not true, but he can’t tell Liam that. Can’t tell him the real reason is that his friends will eat him alive. Or eat him out alive – whatever.

It's been a solid plan. 

Right up until now, when he walks into the bar and finds Nick licking salt off his hand while fucking Liam stands right next to him, poised to do a shot of Sambuca and giggling.

Suddenly his whole night shifts from, _have a great time blowing off steam,_ to, _protect best friend’s bum virginity._

“Liam, what are you doing here?” he asks, glaring at Nick and deftly slotting between the (very slight) space between their bodies.

“Haz! You’re here.” Fuck, Liam’s already drunk. “I ran into Nick outside the studio after work, and he invited me out. You don’t mind right?” Liam’s face twists slightly with concern that he’s overstepped his bounds, and Harry rushes to reassure him cause he can’t take that look at the best of times, let alone when he causes it.

“No, of course not, Li. I’m really glad you’re here, it’ll be fun.” He turns and faces Nick. “And how lucky that you just happened to be outside our studio, far from where you work, for no apparent reason.” 

Nick grins brightly. “It _was_ lucky, wasn’t it?”

Fucker.

“So, what are we drinking?” Harry asks, thinking it’ll be _lucky_ if they get through this night without a punch up.

“Shots!” Liam shouts. “Here.” He slides one of the glasses overflowing with brown liquid at him and Harry takes it, downing it in one. He fucking hates black Sambuca, but he’s going to need more than the Capri Sun he had on the way over to get through tonight.

That thought turns out to be a premonition, because two hours later, Harry’s glaring at Nick from across a booth, trying not to glass him in the face.

It’s been two hours of drunken, handsy Liam, laughing and fawning over Nick like he’s the funniest thing he’s ever met, and Nick’s _eating_ it up. He’s doing everything but sticking his hand down the front of Liam’s jeans; taking advantage of being able to feel Liam’s biceps, because, “Aren’t they getting big with the weight training, Haz,” and Harry’s only had two shots and a beer but he feels like he’s going to be _sick_.

It’s really not helping that every three minutes, Nick looks up and shoots him a shit-eating grin, like he knows what Harry would like to do. Like he’s not worried about him ripping his arm off. Like he’s still totally going to take Liam back to his flat to show him that crap picture of him with Justin Timberlake while he goes down on him.

It’s also not helping that Liam’s acting like such a _slut_ for it. He doesn’t want to like, blame the victim, or whatever, but who wets their knickers that much at hearing the name Justin Timberlake? Who pulls up their shirt and lets someone rub their hand over their abs? Who thinks that talking about the most exciting positions to fuck in, isn’t flirting. Seriously! 

It all becomes too much when Nick starts leaning into Liam’s ear and whispering to him under the pretence that, ‘oh, isn’t it just so _loud_ in here’, and Liam starts whispering back, and Harry’s on the other side of the booth like their fucking chaperone, and then Nick spends a little too long at Liam’s ear, and before he knows it, Liam’s ducking his head and laughing and batting at Nick playfully, and is he _nibbling his ear_? Oh, fuck NO!

“Liam, can I talk to you outside please?” He stands up quickly, beer bottle tipping over, and storms out, hoping Liam’s following him, because if he's not, there will be a _riot_ in this place.

When he spins around on the pavement outside, Liam’s there, looking confused and worried, and Harry’s actually pissed that he’s this naïve.

“What’s happening in there?!” he yells, ignoring the couple passing by that jumps and hurries away from him.

Liam glances around nervously, like Harry’s acting mental. “What do you mean, Harry? What’s happening with what?”

“With Nick. Do you not see what he’s doing? He’s trying to shag you, Liam!” Harry grits out from between his teeth. He’s aware the bouncer’s looking warily at them, assuming this is a domestic.

Liam shakes his head at Harry and flicks his eyes to the ground, wry smile on his face. _No_ part of this is funny from where Harry’s standing. “Well he can’t.”

“Can’t he? The ear licking suggests otherwise!” He’s aware he’s being loud and hysterical again.

“We were just messing around, Harry. I like him, he’s funny,” Liam says innocently, and Harry suddenly feels like he’s accusing Snow White of being a stripper.

“Yeah, he usually is when he’s trying to get into someone’s pants,” Harry tells him, slightly calmer, but no less pissed.

“Harry, I like Nick, I think he’s brilliant. But he can’t shag me.” Liam bites his lip and there’s a long pause. “You can.”

Harry might be very, _very_ drunk. “What?” 

“You can shag me. If you want to,” Liam repeats, meeting Harry’s eye.

“I don’t… What?!”

“You can shag me. I mean… I came along tonight to try and figure out why you never want me to come out with you and Nick. To find out if you and him are like a thing, or whatever. And I guess you’re not, so yeah. I think you should take me home, and we should have loads of sex. From now on.”

Harry is so close to grabbing the bouncer and asking him if he’s hearing this right.

“Are you – So you’re – I mean…” Harry _cannot_ latch on to a thought. “How drunk are you?” That knowledge seems vitally important right now.

“Not so drunk that I don’t remember that I’ve wanted you for ages. Even though you’re too dumb to get that I drop hints all the time.”

Harry would like to try and figure out when all those times were, but all the blood has shot straight to his dick, and he’s having trouble thinking of anything except what positions he can bend Liam’s gorgeous, pliant body into himself. “I - okay. Do you want to come back to mine and listen to some Justin Timberlake?”

Liam steps closer until he’s pressed against Harry’s front and nuzzles up into his chin. “What about Nick?”

“Nick hates Justin Timberlake.” Liam laughs and hails a taxi.

Harry’s not worried about Nick. It’s a Friday night in London. He’ll find someone else to have a crush on in no time.

 

 

(And then they fuck in the cab!)


End file.
